


Definitely Not In The Brochure

by Kris



Category: The Blacklist
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:22:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1746188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kris/pseuds/Kris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For rounds of kink on LJ, round 23<br/>
Prompt: definitely not in the brochure<br/>
Kink: Breath (as a caress; hitching or ragged; indrawn breath or gasps; sighs); Enemies working together<br/>
Notes/Warnings: slash, dirty sex, d/s tones and some un detailed auto-erotic asphyxiation. Spell checked but not beta-ed because I'm lazy that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Not In The Brochure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silentflux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentflux/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Не по учебнику](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491172) by [Heidel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidel/pseuds/Heidel)



  
Donald Ressler is an absolute dream in a black pinstripe Yves Saint Laurent. “Oh honestly Donald, you look like a little boy being dragged to Sunday service. Do try to smile, darling. If you don’t we’ll never pass muster.” The security lineup to get into the house of Ceasar Ronaldo is moving at an acceptable pace and Red has set them right in the middle. Party goers in shining dresses and impeccable suits make Red want to reach out and muss someone’s hair up so he does and Donald twists away. Remarkably his hair bounces back into place with hardly any effort on the man’s part.

"This is ridiculous! This whole situation is fucking ridiculous Reddington!" The FBI agent hisses at him. Adorable, really. "And I'm counting from before your goon showed up to shove me into this goddamned suit."

"Donald that suit is the height of current fashion please stop being such a diva. If you'll just smile and nod your head at the appropriate places you'll blend in better and we'll be finished much quicker."

"I can do undercover, you ignorant ass." Donald snaps almost too loudly, he’s drawing attention to them and Raymond is rethinking his choice. Perhaps Liz would have been better after all. They're closing in on the security personnel at the front of the receiving line and the last thing Raymond wants is to draw attention to their nefarious purposes.

"Donald," he says in warning. They're two feet away from the party entrance and Agent Ressler is facing away from the guards glaring at him like he can light him on fire.

"And height of fashion my ass!" Donald sasses, his voice taking on a fascinating whining quality that Raymond had never heard from the man before. "This is off the rack garbage and you know it.”

“That suit was upwards of $3,000.00, Donald, it’s hardly garbage,” Raymond rebukes gently.  
“You know I prefer your tailor in Venice. Besides Marco has all of my measurements right, this doesn't even fit right in the shoulders!" Ressler manages to keep up the whine through his own security check and into the building.

"Fine, Donald, I'm sorry, when we get back to the villa I'll put a call in to Marco and order something special for you, will that suffice?" The security guard Raymond is dealing with hands him back their invitation with a sympathetic smile. Donald drapes himself over Raymond's back, pressed so close they may as well be one person.

"I think it might. Do you promise to rip this one off of me tonight? You know I like it when you get rough," he breathes into Raymond's ear, hands almost indecently low on Raymond's waist. Raymond smiles slyly at the guard and winks and it earns him a laugh. Donald takes a hand and pulls him away. “Come on, Ray darling, I feel like dancing tonight.” Raymond can hardly be blamed for the way his eyes track the man’s hips as the sway.

***

Pressed close shoulder to hip on the dance floor moving to some modern waltz variation, Raymond thinks he could let himself sink into the illusion they’re presenting. Doting sugar daddy and his strawberry blonde, self obsessed, gold digging boy. The feeling of this false reality is so strong that Raymond almost forgets what they’re doing until No.33 walks by with a bleach blonde waif of a woman on his arm and Donald spins them around in a lazy way to keep the man in their sights.

“So what exactly is your angle here? What do you get out of all of this?” Donald asks, softly into his ear like lover, grin on his face open, blue eyes sparkling like he’s truly enjoying their dance.

“I’m not sure what you’re…”

“Don’t try to play me Red, you know I don’t buy it.” Raymond sighs and wraps his arm around Donald’s waist a little more solidly, hand tightening on Donald’s hip.

“It’s a matter of some importance,” he admits keeping a fond smile on his face, enjoying the feel of his young lover in his arms. “He has taken some money from me and he’s making waves in some circles I’d rather he not be introduced to at all.”

Donald makes a small inquiring sound and as the music slows to something he rests his head down on Raymond’s shoulder, mouth wet and warm against Raymond’s throat. “So how is it that you got us invitations to this party then?” he asks and Raymond suppresses a shiver.

“Carlos is an old friend, and when I learned of the guest list it was a simple matter of calling him up. He was jumping all over himself to invite me.” Under his hands, Donald tenses minutely.

“Target is on the move,” he says and promptly walks backwards into a server with a tray of drinks. The drinks clatter everywhere and Donald spins around and glares at the server.

“You complete oaf!” he shrieks. “This is Yves Saint Laurent! You’ve drenched me in subpar champagne, oh you’ve ruined everything!” Masterful, honestly. In all the times they’ve spent in past years with Donald leading the FBI team chasing him, Raymond had never expected the level of sheer bitchy-ness the younger man seemed fully capable of.

“Come on, Donny, lets get you cleaned up. You don’t need to make a scene, love.” Raymond guides Donald around the thoroughly embarrassed waiter and impressive pile of broken glass.

They lose the target once he leaves the party but Donald gets on the phone with Liz and Agent Malik who confirm they’re following. Unfortunately, they run into Carlos on the way out the door.

“I’m sorry my old friend,” he's wringing his hands and desperate to make everything better. Given the nature of the information Raymond is currently holding over Carlos’ head, it’s not a surprise.

“Oh Carlos, it really isn’t a good time at the moment,” Raymond sighs. “I need to get Donald back to the hotel before I end up paying for this through the nose with him."

"I'll make it up to you, yes?" Carlos asks and it's Donald who places a hand on the centre of Carlos' chest and says darkly "oh yes, you most certainly will." Raymond hustles them into the car where Dembe us waiting before he has an inappropriate reaction to this devious and angry part of Ressler he has never previously dwelled upon.

***

They're staying in the same hotel room, necessity making it so they appear as much together as possible in this information gathering mission. Donald lets Dembe hold his door open and escort them up to the room without complaint.

"That was absolutely amazing Donald." Raymond says. He's cut off by Donald's mouth slotting over his. A lewd open mouthed kiss with a hand tight in the material of Raymond's suit jacket and the other fumbling and rushed at the fastening on his belt. "Mmph, Donald, calm down," he says into the other man's lips. Donald leaves a trail of wet kisses to his ear and bites gently at the lobe.

"Everything has been moved and I think there's more than one bug there been planted in here since we left. You want this guy, you're going to have to pretend we're the couple we've been posing as all night."

"Well, I'm game if you are," Raymond sighs in Donald's ear before pushing him away slightly. Louder he dismisses Dembe for the night, and takes his jacket and best off. "I believe I made you a promise," he says to Donald. "To rip that suit off of you." Donald grins and opens his arms.

“Well, come on then, I’m waiting!” he says and Raymond is not proud of the way the attitude makes his cock stand up in attention. Donald lays himself down on the king sized bed, one of his hands sliding down his chest to the fly of his fantastically expensive dress pants. "You want to touch me don't you daddy?" He asks. Raymond lets out a wordless snarl and rips the fastenings right off.

"Oh please, try to shut up," Raymond orders. "Don't make me choke you." The slight shudder that runs through the younger man gives Raymond so many interesting thoughts.

"I think I'd like it if you did," Donald breathes. "Fuck me hard and fast and leave me completely breathless. Please daddy, oh please.." Raymond slips his tongue into that begging mouth if only to get the absolute filth pouring out of it to stop.

"Dirty little boy aren't you?" he asks when he finally comes up for air. Dazed and with a very sizeable erection straining at the front of black boxer briefs Donald is the picture of debauchery.

"Have I been bad, Daddy?" his voice low and sultry. "Do I need to be punished?" he punctuates his words by grinding up against Raymond's own burgeoning erection.

"You're so bad, baby," Raymond sighs and waxes rhetoric. "What am I going to do with you?" Donald answers with a whine when Raymond wraps his hands around that smooth throat and grasps lightly. It does nothing to dispel the erection rubbing against his own. There's a dark spot of precome staining the front of Donald's briefs.

They fuck hard and animalistic with Raymond's red scarf wrapped lightly around Donald's throat pulling back as he thrusts into the willing body over and over again mindlessly seeking his own release without a care for his partner's. Donald, in response, has his own hand wrapped right around his cock stroking in fast, matching, rhythm until his face screws up in a picture of pained ecstasy, breath coming in short gasps. Raymond lets his scarf loose and comes.

***

"I can't believe you spent the night cuddling with him, what's Red like in bed?" Liz asks. Don can't help but grin at her. He told her that he was stuck in the hotel room and the possibility of surveillance had led to him sharing a bed with Reddington. In the morning they had swept the room surreptitiously and determined the bugs were audio only.

They're water cooler session is disturbed by a very bewildered courier being escorted into the blacksite's bullpen. With a garment bag over his arms.

"I have a delivery for an Agent Ressler?" the kid swallows nervously and his hand is shaking a little. Probably because of the amount of guns in the room.

"Don't worry kid," Don says. "We don't shoot the messenger around here." He takes the bag and watches the kid get escorted out before Liz is on him to 'open something already!'.

The garment bag has a very expensive looking suit in it with a note on the hanger that reads 'Marco sends his regards' which makes him laugh. He has no doubt it will fit perfectly.

/end


End file.
